It's either writer's block or menopause. Either way I've gained 10 pounds.

Summer is almost over and I've not written a blog post since June 4.  I will not try to explain this except to say, in a move reminiscent of Janet Jackson at Superbowl VIIXIVITIT, I lost my swimsuit bottoms in a public pool shortly after summer started.  I might have PTSD.

After a long pause in blog production there are some things that are bound to annoy the crap out of readers.

1.  Trying to explain why there has been an extreme pause in writing. 

So, let me attempt to explain the long pause in writing.  I cleaned my copper bottom pans.  Jesus.  My lack of tricep muscles are still sore and I think I found the decomposed remains of Jimmy Hoffa under the black burned stuff that was on my pots.  On the upside - I can now taste my food and I will not be mildly embarrassed if Paula Deen chances by and decides to melt me some butter sprinkled with cheese and then salted (under the guise that she is a reformed diabetic racist).

2.  Trying to explain previous blog topics and why they didn't work. 

So, here are some things I have tried to write about in the past month and then after a rereading - promptly eaten the results (which could explain why I've gained 10 pounds).

a.  How Much I Hate Barbie.  Did you know that along with being an astronaut, physicist, hooker, veterinarian, and entrepreneur, she writes books now?  And (surprise) they read a lot like the genius script from Two Broke Girls.  Because I would never believe it unless I saw it, I've included one of the pages from the book that clearly makes me proud to support public libraries through all my fines.  In case the captions look like they're in Chinese (the book was made in China, after all), I've included the (interpreted) script for you below.



Unnamed character:  Barbie!  Ken's here!  Barbie:  Oh no!  I don't have my brain in yet!  Brunette:  Barbie!  Remember, you don't have a brain!  Barbie:  Oh, yeah!  That's a relief!

  And now I think I should be a published (paid) author.

b.  How Much I Hate Insurance. 

Insurance - n.noun

1. The act, business, or system of screwing.
2. The state of being screwed.
3. A means of being screwed.
4. Coverage by a contract binding a party to indemnify another against specified loss in return for premiums paid unless such premiums go toward a "deductible" in which case the party paying the premiums is screwed out of their premiums and stuck with said specified losses.  (See #1-3.)
5. The sum or rate for which such a contract insures something or not (See #4).
6. The periodic premium paid for this coverage.  "Coverage" being a relative term dependent on the amount of said deductible which is relative and rises in relation to the amount in which the paying party is being screwed.
7. A protective measure.
8. Bullshit.

Term in use:  I f*cking hate insurance.

c.  My inability to cook even with a recipe.

Here is what I made just this morning from a biscuit recipe:

Whatthef*ckisthat?

Y'know how some people have suffered tremendous stress and then go on to like win the Olympics?  Well, I'm kind of like that.  I have suffered the loss of ruining virtually every recipe I've set out to cook and yet I've managed to come out a winner almost every time.

*Eating that idea now.  (And, it's quite delicious I might add.  Score!)*

e.  Like every other female on the planet my hormones are all out of whack.  I think I've narrowed down my afflictions (thank you, WebMD) to either ebola, menopause, a stubbed toe, or a hangnail.  The list of symptoms of menopause is a blog in and of itself (the title of that blog is:  Menopause - Serve Yourself Some More Cake).  I seem to have experienced just a few symptoms (not a comprehensive list) in the time I've had writer's block:  fatigue, depression, hot flashes, mood swings, sudden tears, inability to articulate or write, inability to cook or do laundry, sudden bouts of bloat (although apparently not enough to make the elastic in my swimsuit bottoms hold), gastrointestinal distress (could be related to my cooking?), disturbing memory loss, increased tension in the muscles, and tinnitus (could be due to my kids not being in school?).

3.  Trying to describe how much you have missed your readers.

If it weren't for virtual friends, I'd have no friends at all and I know you guys have all been reading everyone else's superior blogs and having a party without me.  What can I say?  It hurts.

So, I will not try to tell you why I've been gone, what I've been doing instead of blogging, what topics have just not worked, or how much I've missed you guys.  As some guy once said in AA, "Today I am not enjoying life as it occurs.  Today I am blogging about it instead.  I'm not sure when I will do this again and I will not make any promises.  But today I hope you guys will join me."  (Or something like that.)

Nicely played, Internet.

I get that Google knows what kind of underwear I am wearing right now, but every once in a while I just get creeped out by what shows up in my sidebar or my inbox.  Forget spies being in my driveway.  Are these people in my head?

I hate talking on the phone, but I'm quite smug about my online cleverness.

Well, just now this ecard showed up in my sidebar. 

Okay, Internet.  I get it.  You know me.  Now get out of my soul.

Bad things happen in 3's...or 13's...or 33's. But who's counting?

So, you might have known that back in January while hubby was out of town with work, our microwave (that we'd had for about 11 years) broke. 

That was the beginning of the end.

For about one day after it broke, I felt just like a pilgrim while I actually cooked everything.  On the stove.  (Pilgrims had stoves, right?) 

Then after much furious texting between hubby and I (while he was in some "important" meetings) about how much microwaves cost "nowadays," I texted hubby from Lowe's:  Babe, the cheapest microwave is $120.00 and it looks like it would hold one bag of single serve popcorn.  I *think* it belongs in a hotel.  A hotel where only one person will be staying.

About 15 minutes and $260 later, I walked out with a sleek, stainless steel, working microwave that can *almost* hold a 9 x 13 pan.  Damn my faulty measuring.

That's when it all went down the crapper.

The complete list of everything in our house that has broken since the 11 year old microwave died in January:

1.  The air conditioner.
2.  The water heater.
3.  My trusty, dependable 20 year old hair dryer.
4.  The puppy.
5.  The garbage disposal.  Seriously?  Whose garbage disposal up and breaks???  I swear I didn't even put a fork in it.
6.  The cheese drawer on the ancient (white) fridge.  Firstly, who still has a white fridge?  Secondly, I know this isn't a real "break," but damn it if it isn't annoying to not be able to close that drawer properly.
7.  The Keurig.  (Thankfully hubby was able to fix that before I had to even miss one cup of coffee.  Thank you, hubby for not making me kill anyone.)

And, today I came back from my run to this:

Hubby:  The TV broke while you were gone.

$%&*#%  $%&*%$ is what I said.

Seriously?  I feel like I want to bury a saint in my front yard or go to a curandero, or have my house blessed.  Again.  Cheesus, Mary, and Joseph.  Someone cut me a break.

Photo courtesy:  forums: redflagdeals.com  I bet you didn't even know people still had TVs like this.  We do and now ours is broken.  If you hear screaming it's us being dragged into this century by force.